


Whipped - Pretty Boy, Beautiful Man

by glacis



Category: Dark Angel
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-27
Updated: 2010-01-27
Packaged: 2017-10-06 17:52:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glacis/pseuds/glacis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Logan is. More than Alec realized. Spoilers for the episode 'Two'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whipped - Pretty Boy, Beautiful Man

Whipped (Pretty Boy, Beautiful Man) a Dark Angel story by Glacis. Rated NC17, no copyright infringement intended, spoilers for the episode "Two."

 

Normal was gushing. Alec didn't know the man, and didn't want to, but he knew an ally when he heard one, so he smiled as modestly as he could fake it.

"I once saw this beautiful man take down 'Mangler' Miller in less than forty-five seconds flat. Wonderful! Bravo!"

Yup. Gushing. Beautiful man? Alec smothered a smirk.

He'd take what he could get. At least it gave him an in. A sector pass. And a lot of places to case.

 

Original Cindy looked over at the man making her girl crazy. Not her type, but no doubting he was hot. "He's from Manticore, huh? Say what you want--they sure know how to make 'em pretty."

Max rolled her eyes. Whites all the way around the brown. Not her best look. "Try spending an afternoon with him. He'll drive you crazy with his laughing, and his talking, and his breathing..."

Took all Original Cindy's control not to laugh in Max's face. "Sugar, you got issues." From the way the pretty boy was looking at her girl, Max wasn't the only one.

 

Alec didn't have much patience. When the steelheads stole the drugs he'd been planning to sell, partly to recoup Max's losses for her paying the scientist to dig the bomb out of the base of his skull, but mainly to get some money in his regrettably empty pockets, it pissed him off. Now he had no androstamine, no money, and he'd had to dip into his dwindling stash of cash to pay off the bike messenger, who'd gotten beaten to a pulp, to keep his damned mouth shut.

Things weren't going his way. Time for that to change.

The steelheads were gathered around a truck that smelled vaguely of raw meat when Alec found them. One harangued the others in a weird English accent.

"We're gonna sell 'em, you dim. They're for transplants. We've got buyers overseas willing to pay top dollar for this lot."

Organs. Explained the stench. Alec brought his bike to a halt and called over, "Excuse me, gentlemen. I'm looking for three butt-ugly steelheads that beat up a friend of mine this morning." After all, Max had told him to be polite. The creepy one with the accent turned on him. Yeah. He was even uglier from the front.

"Well, you found 'em."

Of course. Alec glanced over at the short one, who was waving the mangled stump of his right arm around in a manner no doubt meant to be threatening. "What happened to you? Did you, uh, accidentally chew your arm off?"

The guy actually looked enthused. "Actually, I'm pre-op. I'm gettin' a top-of-the-line, Japanese-made cyber-arm put in next week."

Oo-kay. "Well, whatever moves your furniture." Onto more important things. Like getting his money back. "Here's the thing, fellas. My friend was carrying a package that didn't belong to him. It belonged to me. You guys took it. I need to get it back."

The one with the bad accent was obviously their leader. Pathetic, the bunch of them. "Seems to be a breakdown in communication, doesn't it? Maybe your friend didn't relay our message."

A big black steelhead with little metal prongs sticking out of his face growled, "Nobody around here sells andy but us."

So they wanted to rumble. Things were looking up. Keeping his tone light, Alec said, "Yeah, see, here's the problem. I had a buyer who was willing to pay me five hundred dollars for that package. Now he's upset that he didn't get his andy, I'm upset that I didn't get my cash, and you guys are upset because--well, I'm not quite sure why you're upset, but you seem to be. So what do you say you give me five hundred dollars, and I get out of here before anybody gets more upset than they already are?" Or not. That'd be fun.

Bad Accent got in his face. "What's a poofter like you need with five hundred bucks, anyway, eh?"

Alec could do a better take on Brit than that. Putting on a bit of upper crust, he shot back, "Actually, I need it for a ride on your mum."

Perfect. Bad Accent drew back to punch him. Then a cell phone rang.

All four men started patting their jackets. Alec apologized nicely, "It's me. Excuse me, fellas. I'm sorry." Into the phone, he said, "Hello?"

"You cheeky bastard!" Bad Accent threw the first punch. Of course.

Alec met it. He ducked, kicked out, and tossed Bad Accent on his ass. Or maybe his arse, given the accent's reputed origins. He didn't let it interfere with his conversation.

"Alec. It's Logan."

Max's boy. Sort of. "Oh, hey." A lucky punch got through and Alec rolled with it, grunting softly into the phone, coming up off the cement with a roundhouse kick that took the big black Steelhead in the balls. Luckily for Alec, the guy hadn't had his crotch upgraded yet.

"What was that?"

Alec took out Stumpy with a sharp jab to the solar plexus followed by stiffened fingers to the throat. "Nothing, nothing." He ducked under Bad Accent's enraged charge. "What's going on?"

"You okay?"

How sweet. He actually sounded concerned. Alec kicked Bad Accent in the side of the head, sending him into the heap of his cohorts, all of them out cold. "I'm fine." Ah ha! There it was, a nice little roll of green -- okay, not so little -- in Bad Accent's pocket. This more than made up for the androstamine. He could pay Max back. There was a thought. He tucked the money in his own pocket. "So, what's up?"

"I need your help."

Alec paused, almost missing a step. Not what he'd expected. "Tell me about it."

"Meet me by the entrance to the service tunnel next to Joshua's. We're after ... his brother. Isaac." A click and the buzz of a disconnected line made him shrug. Logan sounded perfectly calm, but that was typical. Alec sometimes wondered what it would take to break Logan's composure. He was tempted to try, just for the hell of it.

The tunnel was as disgusting as Alec expected it to be. He glanced over at Logan, walking warily beside him, shining a huge flashlight into the darker corners. Not that there was much to see. Even the rats didn't like the smell. Logan looked a little twitchy. Must have had a flare-up with Max. Alec recognized the tight look around the mouth and the narrowed eyes. She did it to him, too.

"It's just 'cause she's hot, you know," he tossed out. Logan gave him a confused look.

"What is?"

"Everything. Everything she gets away with." Alec gestured around at their godawful surroundings. "You honestly think we'd be down here in this moldy dump looking for God-knows-what if she were ugly?"

The confusion gave way to offended dignity. Logan told him severely, "We're down here to give Max a hand."

Alec had to laugh at that. "You're so whipped."

Logan didn't say another word to him for the next half hour. He probably would have kept it up indefinitely, but before Alec could get bored completely out of his mind, he spotted a grate. Behind it, shadows hinted at a room. Or a den. Maybe a lair. It stank worse than the surrounding sewer. No doubt, whatever it was they were looking for lived there.

If you could call it living.

He lifted the grate off with little assistance from Logan, although he didn't let on how heavy the damned thing was. Logan got touchy about being a relative weakling around Alec. And it was too damned disgusting to stand there arguing about the morals of genetic manipulation versus advantages of upgrading when they could be kicking ass and going back up to the surface.

"After you." He gestured into the hole. Logan glared at him, but he did go first.

God. If it hadn't been bad enough out in the side tunnel, the full glory of it hit him in the face when they stepped in the middle of it. "Whoa! What is that smell?" There was a line strung diagonally across the chamber, with odd little ornaments hanging off it. Alec looked closer and winced. "Are those--tongues?" Totally disgusting.

Logan shone the light around, following the line of neatly sliced out human tongues, to where it ended at the wall. Neither one of them was prepared for the nightmare man-dog that growled at them and leapt onto Logan. Alec reacted instinctively, hitting the freak like a tornado, ripping it off Logan before it could add Logan's tongue to its collection.

The beast fought back. Damn hard, too. Alec gave it everything he had, and ended up whacked in the gut and body-slammed to the filthy tunnel floor. Not one of his better showings. Before he could get his legs to work again, Isaac, who resembled Joshua less than a rabid werewolf, ran out the opening. Then he slammed the damned grate down and locked it. From the outside.

"Guess we should've called first," Alec cracked. Logan, feeling the bruises Alec could see through the ripped shirt were already coming up on his ribs, ignored him. No surprise there. For a nanosecond, Alec considered leaping on Logan himself, maybe adding a few bruises and a tear or two, maybe ruffling that unruffled demeanor. Then he shook off the incipient erection the thought gave him and channeled his frustration into assaulting the locked gate.

Not only was it iron, the damned thing was solid. Too solid. Alec approached it from various angles, tried poking, prodding, and banging to no avail before taking the direct approach. A shoulder to center mass at a full run had been known to take down brick walls.

The gate didn't budge.

Logan settled down to a comfortable-looking semi-sprawl and watched Alec fling himself uselessly at the gate. He looked like he wanted to laugh, but that would be too much animation, so he simply watched. The eyes added to Alec's frustration with the stupid gate added to the sizzle of challenge Logan's presence always gave him and totaled an atypical loss of control in Alec. He gathered every ounce of strength he had and threw himself at the gate in a final burst of impotent rage.

It barely vibrated as it tossed him back, nearly knocking him on his ass.

"Oh, this is great," he growled. "Great." Logan shifted behind him but he didn't look. If Logan was smirking at him, he might do something stupid, like try to use Logan's head for a battering ram. Or kiss him. Or something. "This is just great!"

"Maybe you should try this," Logan told him. Calmly, of course.

Alec turned and glared at him. Then he glared harder at the large piece of pipe Logan held up like a torch in the darkness. Bastard. Alec wondered how long he'd had that handy little tool, while Alec was pounding his body uselessly against the iron grating. Sometimes he wondered if Logan had a sense of humor; other times Alec suspected he did, and it was a nasty one.

He took the pipe without a word to Logan. Drew back his arm and let fly with all the strength of his back and legs in it. Steel rebounded against steel and he felt the recoil in every muscle in his body.

Well, that sucked.

Not that he was going to stop. Persistence had gotten him through more tight situations than super-strength and super-healing combined. He whaled on the gate, took three seconds to catch his breath, whaled some more, and repeated the cycle. When sweat was dripping down his spine and soaking his waistband, and his arm felt as heavy as the damned pipe, he finally decided it was time for a short rest.

Logan sat there and watched him all the way through it. Alec had to admit, it was getting to him. Being one who trusted his instincts, Alec tossed the pipe down on the filthy floor and stalked over to Logan. There was no change in the expression on the scruffy face, although the watching eyes did widen a fraction behind the glasses. Alec reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and, to his satisfaction, saw Logan's body tighten almost imperceptibly.

"Here," Alec told him jauntily. "To cover the money Max gave to the quack to get the bomb out of my head." He tossed the wad of cash he'd taken from the steelheads into Logan's lap. Logan slowly picked it up and looked at it. "Sorry about the virus," Alec added quietly.

The fingers wrapped around the money clenched, then relaxed as Logan put the money into his own pocket. "Where'd it come from?" The eyes looking up at him were suspicious, but Alec noted the money stayed in Logan's pocket.

"Took it off some bad guys." Alec waited for Logan to ask for details, but he didn't. After a moment, Alec added, "Payback for giving up your chance with Max to save my life."

Logan smirked at him. "Wasn't my choice. It was Max's." He shrugged, glancing at the grate then back up at Alec. "Not that I wouldn't have done the same thing under the circumstances. There was a life on the line. Then again ..." The smirk grew into a wicked grin. "Maybe not."

He really couldn't help himself. "You are so totally whipped!"

The grin disappeared into a snarl that made Alec's skin prickle. "I haven't had anything to get whipped by in so long I've practically forgotten what to do with it!" Logan snapped at him. Then his mouth closed so fast he almost bit his lip, and even the near-darkness couldn't hide the blush rising under his beard stubble.

Before Alec could say anything, Logan pushed himself away from the wall and turned to walk away, his breath hitching as his bruised ribs protested the movement. Alec grabbed him before he could get very far. Logan was snarling again, but Alec ignored his protests, pushing him back against the wall and efficiently checking the bruised chest. The skin was hot and swollen, darkening from trapped blood, but Alec couldn't feel any bones shift, so there were no ribs broken. Good. They didn't need punctured lungs getting in the way of escape.

Or other things.

Logan's breathing was ragged, and sweat was rising along his skin, making Alec's fingertips skid across the surface. He could make out the rise of an erect nipple, and the flush spread from Logan's face and neck across his upper chest.

It really _had_ been a long time.

Not being one to waste an opportunity, Alec altered his hold from pushing to pinning in place, holding Logan still as he kissed him. Protests shattered against his tongue. Logan was fair game, all heat and need fought and arousal winning the battle against control. Alec kept kissing until he was nearly out of breath, and knew Logan must be light-headed.

Made it really easy to keep him in place as Alec slid down his body. Opened his zipper, shoved his shorts out of the way, and pulled out a cock that was already more hard than soft, leaking in anticipation of touch.

"Damnit," Logan moaned above his head. There was denial in the sound, but none in his body, and Alec went with the deeds, not the words.

It had been a long time since he'd given head, but some skills, once learned, were never forgotten. It came back to him as soon as he wrapped his tongue around the head of Logan's cock. The taste was a little sweeter, a little stronger, a little more bitter than the transgenics he'd blown. More complex, and suddenly Alec was ravenous. His hands slid around Logan's thighs, pulling him in close as Alec gulped around the length stretching his mouth. Words gave way to incoherent gibberish as Logan gave up the unequal fight and tried to thrust.

Alec didn't let him move. The gibberish took on a frustrated whine, and Alec grinned around Logan's cock. Logan was as starved for this, if not moreso, than Alec was. Alec closed his eyes, flattened his tongue, relaxed his throat and went for broke.

Logan screamed.

Yeah, that was it. That was what Logan sounded like when he lost it. Alec slid his hands further up, kneading Logan's ass as he swallowed his cock, sparing a thought to be thankful for superior breath control as Logan convulsed against him. Alec sucked him through the orgasm, keeping it up until Logan was shuddering and pushing at his shoulders, at his head, trying to get away. Whimpering. Alec reluctantly let the spent cock slip from his mouth, licking it clean as it went, then glancing up at Logan's face as he nuzzled the last of the sweat and come off Logan's skin.

So that's what Logan looked like when he lost his cool.

Or when he was in shock.

Probably both.

Alec drew back, wiped his mouth and grinned. Tucking Logan back into his shorts and fastening his jeans, patting him lightly, Alec rose easily to his feet. "You haven't forgotten everything," he teased. Then he picked up the pipe and started back in on the gate. He hadn't gotten off himself, and the sizzle in his blood added strength to his arm.

Still, the damned grate didn't budge.

Behind him, he heard Logan clear his throat. Say his name. A strangled "Why did you ..." trailed off to silence. Alec ignored all of it. It had been fun, and he might want to do it again, and if they started talking about it Logan would try to analyze it all to hell, and he'd lose his advantage. Better to leave it all unspoken, and keep the element of surprise on his side.

Eventually, Logan gave up trying to talk to him and subsided back against the wall. Not in the spot where Alec had blown him. Alec noticed from the corner of his eye that Logan kept glancing at the wall, blushing, and shivering. Good. He grinned and banged on the grate some more.

Confusion was a good look for Logan. Almost as good as post-sex stupor.

He whacked at the grate for another century or so before dropping the pipe and staring at it in complete frustration. Logan sidled up beside him, not quite close enough to touch. Not that Alec was going to jump him again. By this point, Alec was completely obsessed with getting the fucking gate open. Logan opened his mouth to say something but before he could get the words out, a familiar figure appeared in the tunnel beyond the gate.

"Isaac!" Joshua wailed.

About damned time somebody came along to get them out, even if it was Dogboy. "Joshua!" Alec called in response. "Hey! Open up!"

Joshua stood there and stared at them, surprised. Alec sighed. Logan moved beside him. He smelled like sex, a welcome counter to the stench around them.

"Where's Max?" Logan called. Of course. Alec glared at Joshua. "Isaac's out there," Logan added helpfully.

Joshua shrugged and headed off down the tunnel, nose up like he was scenting the air.

"Jo-- hey! Come back here!" Alec yelled. "What is it with these guys, huh?" he asked Logan. Logan looked at him and blushed. Alec growled under his breath and slapped the grate as hard as he could.

It budged.

"Yeah!" he breathed, beating on it until it came loose. He scrambled out into the tunnel, Logan right on his ass. As it should be. In the distance, Alec heard the sound of combat, and took out in that direction. By the time they hit sunlight, combat had given way to a weird whining howl.

Joshua. Kneeling over the dead body of his brother. Keening.

"Max!" Logan called out, then "Max," again, more softly.

She sat slumped against the wall. She looked shaken, eyes big, skin pale, bruises and cuts on her face and hands. She stared at Joshua, and Alec thought he saw tears in her eyes. Logan went down the stairs and knelt next to her, carefully keeping an inch between them. Alec looked at Max, at Logan, at Joshua and the corpse.

He needed a drink. He sniffed. And a shower. Not necessarily in that order. As Logan organized the hell out of Max and Joshua, Alec tagged along behind. Helped them carry the body out, left Joshua to grave-digging detail, and eavesdropped on the lovebirds without making it obvious.

Logan didn't mention the sex, so neither did Alec. Although Max must have noticed the smell of it lingering on Logan's skin, she didn't say anything either. Alec could smell it clear in the back of the van. It was making him hard.

When he finally did get to the shower -- Logan's shower -- he used up most of the hot water. Shot all over the tiles to the sense-memory of Logan, all tangled up with the sense memory of Max. Turned the water over to cold, until he could walk straight again, then climbed out of the shower and went to hang out, watching Logan and Max. Waiting to see what would happen next.

 

Logan stared across the small table at Max's face. It glowed in the soft light. Her eyes looked so deep he could drown in them. He wanted to touch her so badly he could taste it.

He refused to think about the fact that the only thing taking the edge off his urgency was an episode that afternoon with Alec, of all people. If his vision had a peculiar tendency to blur out when he looked at her mouth, and a weird flash of memory overlaid the image of Alec's lips moving instead of hers, he steadfastly refused to acknowledge it.

His life had been odd for several years now. He'd learned a long time ago that the only way he could handle reality was by riding it out and trying not to get too worked up about it.

If only he could convince his body.

Gritting his teeth, he ignored Alec, staring at them from his place propping up the bar, and kept his eyes glued to Max. It wasn't exactly a hardship.

"Thanks for hanging out with me," she said, apropos of nothing. He blinked.

"No problem." His eyes stopped skimming over the lovely details and actually noticed her expression. Isaac's death was hitting her hard.

Lately, they all were.

"I shouldn't have let them out, Logan," she went on. It sounded like she was thinking out loud. "I should've known something like this was gonna happen."

As if there'd been anything else she could've done. He took a deep breath. "You did the right thing. The only thing."

She didn't buy it. "Tell that to the families of those cops who died."

Not her fault. If only he could make her believe it. "Manticore made Isaac a killer. Not you."

"What if there are others like him out there?" she asked plaintively.

"For every one you let out that could be dangerous, you gave a hundred others the chance to have a real life." Unable to stop himself, he pointed over at Alec. "Like him." Or as close to real as Alec got.

Although it had felt pretty real that afternoon, with Alec on his knees between Logan's feet and Logan's crotch riding his chin.

"Thought you were trying to make me feel better." She grimaced at him.

He had to laugh. "Oh, almost forgot." He plucked the roll of bills Alec had given him from his inner pocket and flashed it at her discreetly. "He gave me this. Said it was to cover the money we lost on that doctor."

She eyed the money suspiciously. "Where'd he get it?"

"Off some bad guys. All I needed to hear." She didn't need to know how distracted he'd gotten by the end of the conversation. Or why.

She gave him the ghost of a smile. "I'm gonna drop by Joshua's."

"How's he doing?" Logan gave her a concerned look. She was taking Joshua's pain even worse than her own feelings of guilt.

"I don't know. He won't even talk to me ..." she swallowed. "Except to say go away." Sliding off the stool she looked at him as if she had too much to say and not enough words to say it. "Thanks," she finally offered.

He nodded. "Bye," he told her gently. He watched her walk across the bar, nodding to Alec in a way that reminded him irresistibly of two tom cats marking territory, then she was out into the night. Biting his tongue against calling her back, knowing there wasn't a damned thing either of them could do for the other until the virus was dead and their lives were back off hold, he headed for the bar to pay for the last round of drinks.

Alec was still leaning against the bar. The woman he'd been making time with, a baldie with wires sprouting out of her dome, sashayed away. Logan glanced over at Alec, then looked again, caught by the unusual way Alec was slumped. Almost like he would've slid to the floor without the bar at his back.

Following an impulse he didn't examine too closely, Logan stepped over to stand next to Alec. Beads of sweat slid down Alec's temple, his eyes were wider than normal, and he looked pale even for him.

"Are you all right?" Logan asked, not knowing if he really wanted to hear the answer. Alec threw him a wild look, immediately contained, and shrugged. Then he turned his back to Logan and waved at the barman.

Okay. Logan could take a hint. He tossed a twenty down that the barman swept up on his way to get Alec's order. With one last glance at Alec, who was staring at the top of the bar hard enough to melt it, Logan headed for home.

Usually he liked his solitude. He thought better when it was quiet. But the day had been an unsettling one; he wanted to hold Max more than he'd thought possible. He bolted the door and headed for his scanner. Maybe something interesting was happening that would take his mind off that afternoon's events.

Mid-reach for the knob he froze. There was someone in the apartment. His eyes darted toward the drawer where he kept his gun. Too far away.

"Hi, Logan," Alec drawled.

Logan didn't know whether to greet him or shoot him. He closed his eyes, willed his heart back out of his throat and turned slowly to face the man who was quickly becoming his nemesis. "What are you doing here?"

Alec muttered to the floorboards, "They know where I live."

He made no sense at all. Logan restrained an irritated snort. "Who are _they_?"

The shrug Alec gave didn't have quite the nonchalance he aimed for, and Logan opened his mouth to press the point when Alec beat him to the punch.

"Can I stay here tonight?"

Alec walked up to him, his stalking motion reminding Logan uncomfortably of Max when she was in heat. Logan knew his mouth was still hanging open from the aborted question, but he didn't know what to say and his jaw muscle didn't seem to be working correctly. "Why?" he finally got out.

As it turned out, that might not have been the best question to ask, because Alec apparently decided action spoke louder than words. Before Logan could close his mouth over the end of the word, Alec stuck his tongue in it. Followed immediately (or perhaps preceded, Logan's time sense was whacked and he couldn't be sure) by Alec wrapping his body around Logan's like a human straight-jacket.

A really warm, nice-smelling, inhumanly strong straight-jacket with roving hands.

Logan prided himself on his intellect, not that he bragged about it. Unfortunately, Alec showed a distressing tendency to short-circuit his brain. Plus, it _had_ been a long dry spell. At least, that's what he assured himself, because there was no other explanation for the way he caved at the first application of Alec's tongue to the roof of his mouth.

If things had been a little confused when Alec jumped him and began doing obscene things with his hands on Logan's ass, they got downright fuzzy from that point on. Logan had the vague impression of cloth catching on his glasses, then his glasses and his sweater were gone, and Alec's mouth was roaming across his chest. He felt like a buffet. Then Alec clamped onto one of his nipples and started to suck, and the next thing he knew he was lying on the floor with Alec draped over him like a blanket.

Only he'd never humped a blanket with quite the amount of desperation he was showing to Alec's right thigh.

He knew he should stop this. Feel embarrassed. Something, anything, other than making whimpering little noises in the back of his throat and attacking Alec's clothing as greedily as Alec was attacking his. He was an adult. He had control over his choices, over his destiny, over his libido --

Good God in heaven, that felt incredible.

Alec had Logan's jeans down around his ankles and was licking a spot behind his balls that made Logan's eyes roll back in their sockets. The whimpers exploded into a full-fledged moan that wouldn't stop. Okay, so maybe control was too much to expect. The guy was a professional, or at least he moved like one.

Logan kicked and squirmed until his jeans were only wrapped around one ankle, unbinding his legs and allowing him to spread his thighs like the famished horndog it would appear he was. A tiny part of his mind watched, appalled, and told him how much he would regret this when the endorphins banked down again, but the vast majority of his brain had relocated to the head of his cock, which was perfectly happy being rubbed by Alec's expert right hand.

Then the world contracted to pain in the back of his head from banging it against the floor, rug burn between his shoulder blades, and fire running from his crotch to the end of every individual finger and toe. If he hadn't already battered it to mush, he suspected the top of his head would have blown off. The moan broke into a howl, and who needed glasses when all he could see were stars?

His muscles resembled boiled noodles, so instead of helping him rise, Alec ended up half-carrying him into the bedroom. Logan knew there was something important he had to ask, something beyond the lethargy stealing through him, something about Alec. He swallowed until he got enough spit in his mouth to speak, and rasped," Why?" It was the only word left in his brain. His throat hurt.

Alec gave him a sideways look and dumped him face-first on the bed. Then he climbed on top Logan, leaned down over his back and whispered, "Don't want rug burn on your knees, too, do ya?"

That hadn't been what Logan meant, but he couldn't remember exactly what it was he _had_ meant. Then Alec wriggled behind him, he felt his legs being spread and muscular thighs shoved their way between his, and lethargy disappeared along with the thin line of reasoning he'd been trying to follow.

"Wha--" he started to ask. Then Alec's tongue swiped across his ass, and his own tongue went numb. He didn't know when he started mumbling prayers into the pillow, it was after the third finger went in or before the thumb started massaging his prostate from the outside, but they seemed appropriate. When Alec replaced his hand with his cock, prayer slid from appropriate to necessary.

Nothing had ever felt this good in his life, and if he was going to die he might as well hope for heaven.

He wasn't sure when he got hard again, but he was, and the well-washed cotton sheets beneath him felt like fine grain sand paper. He hunched up to get away from the burn across the head of his cock, incidentally burying Alec even deeper, prompting Alec to pump harder, flattening Logan back against the sheets. It was a no-win situation.

Or perhaps, he thought groggily, a win-win situation. A little harder thrusting on his part, and the sand paper actually felt pretty damned good. The tiny part of his mind that still yammered at him informed him that he was going to regret this in the morning when he couldn't pee and couldn't walk. Alec shifted, lifting Logan's rump and ramming home, and the little voice choked and died. Alec's cock so far up him it felt like it was hitting his tongue, and Alec's hand milking him just hard enough to make the hurt feel incredibly good, were enough to burn out any last brain cells still fighting the good fight for sanity.

Logan didn't remember much after that. Coming, so hard he was sure he'd shot what was left of his brains all over the bed; Alec clamping down on him, leaving bruises on his hips as he jerked against Logan, biting his shoulder and doing some whimpering of his own; strong arms wrapped around him feeling more comforting than constricting; blankets pulled up around his shoulders and Alec breathing against the nape of his neck. Sleep, without nightmares for the first time in a very long time.

Alec wasn't Max, but he would do.

 

Alec didn't dream.

Occasionally, he experienced memory bursts. He refused to call them nightmares.

Crash had been as busy as the first time he'd been there. He left Max and Logan to themselves and ordered himself a drink. Not much on tap, either for booze or sex. Maybe it was the appetizer he'd had earlier. Who knew Logan was so tasty?

Time shifted, and Max stalked past him, toward the door. She looked good enough to eat, always did. He raised his beer to her and she graced him with a small smile before leaving. Better than he usually got.

Shift in perspective again, and the woman he'd been desultorily making time with turned back to him. Good tits, great ass, weird metal things sprouting out of her head, looked like she'd be hot in bed. She said her name was Lux. Mentioned her friends.

That he'd gotten "primitive" on.

Her hand came up in front of his face and inch-long metal claws slid from the ends of her fingers. Fuck. He was so fucked. He could take her, but it could get ugly. He held still. She wrapped a hand around his neck as she came close. She smelled of jasmine and motor oil. Her breasts felt synthetic against his chest.

She stroked his bar code.

"We know what you are."

He came awake with a jolt, carefully holding himself still against the rush of adrenaline through his body. The room was dark. It wasn't Crash.

Of course not.

It was Logan's place. Logan's bed. Alec looked at the soft skin over lean muscle inches from his cheek, and the bite mark showing livid on the flat plane of shoulder blade. Logan's body.

He was safe. For now.

Looking out for number one was the single best-honed skill in Alec's arsenal. He'd only lost it a couple times. Once for a kid who'd ended up dead anyway. Once for Max. He wouldn't lose it for Logan.

He couldn't.

Settling back against the pillow, he listened to Logan breathe in the early-morning darkness and wondered if the man was strong enough to take the heat Alec brought with him. He hoped so. He liked Logan, for one thing, and Max would rip his head off, shit in it and hand it back to him if Alec got Logan killed, for another thing.

He also wondered if Max would step in. Not for himself; for Logan. He tried to determine if he cared, as long as the diversion gave him time enough to escape the steelheads. Unflinchingly honest with himself, regardless of the lies he regularly told everyone around him, he couldn't come to a clear answer. That was the problem with people like Logan, people like Max. They muddied the waters. Alec could drown in muddy waters.

A sound at the front door alerted him, and he closed his eyes to concentrate. He recognized Max before her key turned in the lock. Her breathing pattern, her footfall. Her steps came closer, stopping in the open doorway to the bedroom. They stayed there for a very long time, as Alec played possum and Logan slept the sleep of the innocent.

Or the manipulated.

A little of both, probably.

Finally, after an eon or so of regulating his breathing, Max left. Locked the door carefully behind her. Alec slowly opened his eyes and watched the room grow lighter as day broke. A new wrinkle to add to the situation. If he'd alienated Max from Logan, he should make sure Logan liked him well enough to stand up for him.

At least, that's what he told himself when he dove under the covers and latched onto Logan's cock, sucking it into his throat. Logan woke up bucking, coming, and tearing the blankets.

Screaming Max's name.

That bothered Alec on a fundamental level he couldn't explain. Swarming up Logan's body, he grabbed the scruffy face in both hands and kissed him hard enough to nearly unhinge his jaw, feeding Logan back his own taste. Logan was panting and stuttering by the time Alec allowed him to breathe, swallowing compulsively.

"No," Alec told him pleasantly. "Not Max."

Letting go of Logan's face, he grabbed him by the shoulder and hip and flipped him neatly onto his belly. Logan's ass had interesting patterns of finger-shaped bruises coming up on it, and Alec licked every one of them before mounting him. Logan was thrashing and cursing, but he wasn't fighting, and Alec grinned at the white-knuckled grip Logan had on the pillow. Wondered if there'd be anything left but shreds of cotton and a few loose feathers by the time they were finished.

Logan felt just as good as he had the night before, hot and tight and needy. For a virgin, he learned fast, and he had good instincts. He pushed back as Alec thrust forward, and they moved together like they'd been fucking each other for years. Alec didn't try to make it last, more intent on ownership than stamina. He reached under and pumped Logan's cock a few times. It was still hard from the sucking, orgasm notwithstanding, and Alec didn't give Logan time to think about it before he was coming again. Short, hard, and not a lot to shoot, but the vise tightening around his cock was all Alec needed. He shivered as he collapsed against Logan's back.

Yeah. The pillow case hadn't survived the experience. Alec grinned again, licking lazing at a drop of sweat trickling down the side of Logan's neck. Logan grumbled something unintelligible. Alec nipped where he'd just licked, enjoying Logan's uncontrollable shudder.

"Max may have your heart," Alec purred into Logan's ear, "but your ass belongs to me."

This time the grumble was clear enough to understand. "What the hell are you up to?"

He shifted, and Alec slid off him, allowing Logan to turn so they were facing each other. Alec gave him his most innocent look. Logan glared at him. Alec shrugged, noting with silent satisfaction the way Logan's eyes followed the movement. Still hungry. He could use that.

"I wanted a taste of Max's obsession. Now I understand why she wants a cure so badly."

Logan's mouth was open to ask more questions, so Alec kissed him. Kept kissing him until he was sure Logan wouldn't have breath to ask anything more. Then Alec hopped out of bed, grabbed his clothes, and headed out the door before Logan could unscramble his thoughts.

Zipping and tucking as he walked down the corridor, Alec couldn't keep the grin off his face. That had been fun. If he had his way, it would be again.

Almost made up for the steelheads. But he could handle them.

As long as Max didn't kill him first.

 

The apartment was empty by the time Logan dragged himself out of bed. If it hadn't been for the fact that his entire body felt like it had gone through a wringer, and his hindquarters in particular felt like they'd gone through worse workouts than anything he'd ever suffered in physio, he'd've thought it was a dream.

Alec could show Max a thing or two about quick getaways.

The thought of Max was an itch under his skin. He didn't know whether to feel guilty or pissed off about what Alec had done ... what he and Alec had done ... he only knew he needed to talk to her.

So, of course, it had to be a day when Max played invisible. He paged her all day long, half an hour apart. She didn't answer. The cell phone he gave her was turned off. He even went down to Jampony and, other than an appraising glance from Original Cindy that made him think she knew much more than she possibly could, he saw no one he knew. Max was out on a run. Alec, thank God, was out on a run. Nobody knew when anyone would be back.

He didn't give up. It took most of the day, but he finally ran her to ground at Crash. When he did, she took one look at him and headed out the back door.

She knew. He didn't know how she knew, but she knew.

He took off after her, knowing the only way he was going to catch her was if she wanted to be caught. He didn't know whether to count himself lucky or not when he found her waiting for him in the street outside the club. She had that stony-faced non-expression she only got when she was trying to decide whether to talk to you or kick your ass into the middle of next week. Logan cleared his throat.

Before he got a chance to ask her how and what she knew, and she had a chance to decide whether to talk or kick, a gang of steelheads came out of nowhere and landed on them both like a ton of spare parts with a bad attitude.

Logan barely had time to duck before Max gave a weird, low-pitch yowling noise and waded into the mech-lovers like they were her own personal punching bags. He'd never seen her move so fast, even juiced out of her mind on super-soldier nanotechnology. Strangest of all, she was grinning like a fiend as she efficiently disabled eight steelheads with assorted weaponry in under two minutes.

In a way, it was his good luck that she had a chance to take out her aggression on the attackers before they faced off. She propped a foot on the unconscious bulk of a very large steelhead and stared down at him. A fine sheen of sweat coated her skin, but there wasn't a scratch on her. She put the toe of her boot between two of his ribs and pressed down. Hard.

He came up, or tried to come up, with a roar that became a squeak the instant she bore down with her boot. His eyes widened, the gyros behind the mechanical eye whirling madly. "What the fuck?" he sputtered. Then he squeaked again as she dug in her boot.

"Why were you after this guy?"

He tried to spit at her. She moved, her feet a blur, and the squeak became a strangled scream as her boot heel hit his balls.

"Again. Why this guy?"

"Bait," the thug stammered.

Logan blinked. Bait? For what? He looked at Max, who was looking back at him, waiting for him to catch up to the conclusion she'd reached a long time ago, judging by the irritated look on her face. Logan blushed.

"For the freak," her victim blubbered as her heel dug in further.

"Take a message back to your people," she snarled down at him. "He's not with the freak. He's with me. Anybody messes with him, I break them into composite parts and sent them to the slag heap."

She stamped down once for emphasis, and the steelhead gave a definitely girly scream before passing out cold. She then stomped over him, heading down the street, her back telling Logan all sorts of things about his morals, his judgment, and his intelligence. Logan winced and went after her.

"Max. Please. Wait up." He didn't know what he could say to her but he had to say something. At least she stopped, although she didn't look at him. "How'd you find out?" he asked quietly.

She glared at the bricks in the building across the street hard enough to make them spontaneously combust. "Came by this morning. Gonna cadge some coffee. Got an eyeful."

He was digesting that information when she asked abruptly, "Why are the steelheads after Alec?"

Logan shrugged. "I don't know. But he must have been using me as a diversion while he got away from them."

"That's what he does," she said flatly. "He uses people. Why'd you do it?" She veered directly into the danger zone, startling him with the question. "Is it some kinda twisted transgenic thing you got going? That why you want me, too?"

Her logic was wrong on so many levels Logan didn't know which to address first. He managed a low, "No," then stopped, completely incapable of coming up with a reasonable explanation for taking Alec to his bed.

Or being taken by Alec in his bed.

Before he could come up with something, anything, that made sense, Max started walking again. This time, he let her. His shoulders slumped and he stared down at his feet. Nothing was ever simple. Never what it seemed to be, anymore. The world wasn't the only thing broken. So were the people.

An itch at the back of his neck told him she shadowed him all the way back to his apartment, and that gave him some hope. If she cared enough to make sure he made it home in one piece, maybe she understood enough of his confusion to stick around. Help him figure it out.

Maybe between the two of them they could come up with a clue.

Once home, he showered and fell into bed, exhausted. His brain felt fried. He half-expected nightmares, but wasn't prepared for wet dreams. Max, perfect body covering his, her hair across his face, her mouth against his skin, her arms holding him close, her legs tightening around his waist, the wild sweet strength of her making him fly. Somehow she became Alec, the knowing hands, the rough caress, the tensile movement of him against and inside Logan, driving him insane in a completely different way. Then both, Max's mouth under his as Alec bit the back of his neck, Max and Alec's hands entwining around his body, burying himself in the heat of Max while being taken by the heat of Alec, his entire body enclosed in an inferno.

He woke biting a scream back behind his teeth, his body convulsing as he came. Into Alec's hand, not his own. Alec stroked him gently, calming him, then licked his hand clean, watching Logan intently all the while. Logan stared up at him.

"Why?" Logan croaked again. Why the sex, why the subterfuge. Why come back.

Alec gave him a surprisingly sweet smile and leaned down to kiss him. Then, without a word, he got up off the bed and left the room. A moment later Logan heard the door close and the lock catch.

Falling back against the pillows, waiting for his breathing to steady, he glared at the ceiling. How the hell did he get into these situations? How had his life turned into a rope in a game of tug of war between two transgenics with their own agendas, one he loved and the other he couldn't tell no? How would he ever get out of it?

Did he really want to get out of it?

The last thought hit him, and with it the unshakable realization that he didn't. He rolled over, smothering a rueful laugh at his new self-knowledge in the pillow.

Whipped.

Alec had no idea how right he was.

_end_

 


End file.
